“It is but fitting that, now we have conquered Agadez, thou shouldst become Malieah of the Ahír,” Hadj Absalam protested. “I appeal to thee, my people. Do I give voice unto thy wish?” The armed men looked at one another in hesitation. Then one, a big, hulking, half-witted fellow, stepped forward, and, turning back to his companions, exclaimed—
“Is not the beauty of our Daughter of the Sun known throughout the Great Desert; is she not our Lady of Wondrous Beauty, with whom none can compare? Did not the great Sultan, Mulai Hassan, of Fez, offer one hundred bags of gold for her? Why should she not grace our people by becoming the chief wife of our wise and just ruler? She would still retain her power to bring victory unto us, and would at the same time reflect upon us perpetually the light of her beauteous countenance.”
Labakan grinned. It was, I felt sure, one of his devilish schemes. “Are any of the houris whom thou hast spared in yonder harem half as beautiful as the Lalla Zoraida?” he asked. “Surely she with the loveliest face should become Queen?”
“Hearken unto me, O my brothers!” Zoraida cried anxiously. “Until this moment thou hast granted me freedom. It is a privilege that as long as I live I will not forego; if thou forcest upon me this marriage, remember that my self-sought death will fall upon thee as a curse, swift and terrible.”
“Thy beauty designateth thee as our Sultana!” they answered, influenced by the arguments of the wily Labakan and the others. “Thou must become Queen of the Courts of Love!”
“And is this—is this how thou repayest one who hath acted as a lamp in thy darkness; thy Lode Star that hath led thee unto prosperity?” she cried, with bitterness. “Of a truth herein thou showest—”
“Daughter, thou treatest the generous gift of thy Ruler with contempt,” Hadj Absalam roared in anger.
“I utter no contemptuous words,” she answered, resolutely calm. “Thou hast conceived a plan to marry me against my will, because of what thou art pleased to call my fair face. Verily, I tell thee that if thou attemptest to force thine hateful favours upon me, my knife here shall score mine own cheeks and render them hideous unto thy sight! Failing that, I—I will kill myself!”
“Bah!” cried the Sheikh, impatiently tugging at his beard. “Thou lovest the white-faced Roumi to whom we have given succour!”
“If he were killed, her objection would be removed,” observed Labakan, gesticulating with hands that were smeared and sticky with blood. His cool suggestion was received with mingled approbation and dissent.